


We Rest Our Heads Upon One Pillow

by ashavahishta



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Zayn aches for something like what Louis and Harry have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Rest Our Heads Upon One Pillow

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gif](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4eakqxXoG1r6ah6io1_500.gif) of Harry and Louis being all coupley in Boston yesterday. Zayn POV, slight hurt/comfort themes. Title is from the absolutely stunning 'Dawn' by Cloud Cult. This is such a beautiful song and I highly recommend [having a listen to it.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8X7kbuHcrI)

Zayn sleeps on the flight from London to Boston, so he doesn’t really know what happened, but he wakes to three relatively rested bandmates and one very exhausted, grumpy Louis. It’s not all that surprising; Louis always has the most trouble sleeping on flights, complains that he’s dizzy or nursing a headache. He’s withdrawn as they walk through the airport, keeping his head down and not talking to anyone. Harry is hovering protectively, his hand low on Louis’ back as they cross the carpark and clamber into the enormous new tour bus. Zayn guesses that Harry feels guilty for having slept through much of the flight, leaving Louis to watch shitty movies by himself for hours on end.  
  
As soon as they get inside the bus, Liam and Niall take themselves on an impromptu tour, exclaiming over the bunks, the xbox, the little kitchen. (Which, Zayn thinks moodily, are all exactly the same as every other tour bus they’ve ever been on). Zayn dumps his backpack into a bunk he’s at least temporarily claiming for himself, and pulls his laptop out. Louis seems to have collapsed into the first soft surface he found, the leather couch which runs the length of the common area of the bus. He’s already toeing his shoes off with a sigh, looking ready to curl up and go to sleep right then and there.  
  
  
It’s that precise moment that the screams start, a low rumble which becomes a roar as the bus rounds the corner to where the crowd of fans have been waiting for them.  
  
A collective groan goes up from all five boys, and Louis looks utterly stricken. “Oh please, do we have to?” Harry says when Paul comes in to collect them. “We just got off a twenty hour fight!”  
  
He’s looking at Louis as he says it, and for a moment Zayn imagines Harry curling up around the other boy and fighting off the fans with a stick just so Louis can get some rest.  
  
“Just a few minutes for pictures, guys,” Paul says, his tone apologetic. “You don’t have to meet anyone, just stand there for a bit and then we can all be on our way.”  
  
Even Liam looks a bit annoyed, but they plaster excited smiles on their faces and make their way to the bus door. It’s cold outside and the wall of sound is deafening, screams of ‘Harry, flip your hair!’ ‘Zayn, ZAYN,’ ‘Liam, look over here!’ all seeming to smack Zayn in the face. He lifts his hand and waves, poses, smiles.  
  
As promised, it’s only a few minutes before they’re allowed to turn around and start boarding the bus again. This is the moment that Zayn first notices Louis is barefoot. This is not unusual for Louis, but he must be freezing, the poor guy, and he looks half asleep and sick. Zayn’s brows furrow in concern and he wants to reach out, usher Louis onto the bus and make him at least put some socks on (no matter how much he hates them). Harry’s there first, of course, coming up behind Louis and laying comforting hands on his shoulders. He’s talking, low and private, his lips moving against the wool fabric of Louis’ beanie. Zayn can’t hear, but he sees how Harry’s hand rubs gently against Louis’ arm and sees Louis smile for the first time in hours. It’s just another little way they take care of each other, something Zayn has seen hundreds of times before. It's kind of heart-warming.  
  
Once back onboard, Liam and Niall crowd up against the bus windows, waving goodbye and pointing out signs to each other as the engine rumbles to life. Zayn joins them for a bit, but is drawn away when Harry’s voice asks, “Guys, does it matter who sleeps where? Top, bottom?”  
  
He’s standing at the entrance to the sleeping area with Louis curled against his side. Louis has his head turned into Harry’s shoulder, face tucked into his neck. His eyes are closed. Zayn is struck for a moment by how small Louis looks. It’s hard to notice sometimes, because Louis is so loud, his personality so big and vibrant, but he’s actually kind of a little guy. It’s more noticeable since Harry had his big growth spurt over the past month, shooting up to over half a head taller than the other boy. Harry is holding on to Louis tightly, his big hand folded over Louis’ shoulder.  
  
“Guys?” Harry prompts again. “Quick, someone claim a bed if they want one, we really want to sleep.”  
  
Louis makes a noise that sounds vaguely like agreement.  
  
“Take anything,” Liam says with a shrug. “We can figure it out later.”  
  
Niall agrees and Zayn adds, “I kind of took one on the bottom already, but you can have the opposite if you want.”  
  
Harry just nods. “Alright. Goodnight then, lads.” He quirks a small smile at them and begins to steer the near-comatose Louis into the bunk area. Zayn follows, because sleep on a plane never feels like real sleep and he’s tired again despite himself.  
  
He’s not surprised to see that Harry is already undressing when he shuts the sliding door behind them. Zayn copies his movements, tugging off his sneakers and jacket. He can’t be bothered finding pyjamas but jeans are awful to sleep in, so Zayn just leaves his underwear and t-shirt on, crawls into bed and lays on his side facing the other two boys.  
  
Harry is stripped to underwear by now, but Louis is still sitting on the edge of the bed with his head leaned against the wall, eyes still closed. “Alright, Lou?” Zayn asks, and Louis’s eyebrows knit together in a pained expression. “Head hurts,” he explains shortly. “Dizzy. Don’t wanna move.”  
  
Harry looks over at him from the other end of the same bed, his face softening into a look that’s almost unbearably tender. “C’mon, love,” Harry says. “Just get your kit off and lie down with me.”  
  
Louis shakes his head minutely, then winces at what the movement must do to his doubtless throbbing headache. “Poor babes,” Zayn says, feeling useless. “Have you taken something?”  
  
“Ages ago,” Harry replies for him. “We’ve been waiting for it to kick in.”  
  
It becomes apparent at this stage that the only way Louis is going to get into bed is if somebody makes him. “Let’s get you to bed,” Harry says, a determined tone to his voice. He gets up and crouches over Louis, leaning down to grasp the hem of his sweater. He tugs slowly and Louis hunches forward, lets Harry pull the thick fabric over his head. His beanie gets pulled off with it and Harry gives his messy hair a quick ruffle, his mouth pulling into a fond smile.  
  
It feels almost too intimate for Zayn to see as Harry coaxes a now shirtless Louis to lay back on the narrow bunk. Harry is so gentle, his palm cupped around the back of Louis’ neck as it finds the pillow, his low voice making nonsense comforting noises. His fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of Louis’ jeans and they’re eased down slightly before Harry whispers, “Hips up, darling,” and Louis lifts off the bed just enough for the jeans to be removed properly. Something about the exchange feels so familiar, so practiced, and Zayn wonders how many times they’ve done this before. Hundreds, he supposes, and tries to remember how long they’ve actually been a couple. Were they ever not, really?  
  
Zayn is still staring as Harry pushes the abandoned clothes off the bed and slides in beside Louis. It’s a little surprising how well they both fit in there, considering the bunks are only made for one person. Harry is skinny, though, and Louis petite, and they’re pressed so close together Zayn doesn’t think they’ll have any problem with the small space. Harry lays out on his back and lifts his arm and Louis snuggles in beneath it instantly, his head against Harry’s chest and hand flattening against his side. He makes this happy little noise as he settles, like this is exactly where he’s wanted to be all along. It makes Zayn’s heart ache a little with a feeling he can’t name; a longing, maybe, for something as strong and certain as what these two have.  
  
“You two are so great together,” he blurts, and it’s stupid and impulsive but it’s true, and someone ought to be able to say it. The only time they ever really talk about Harry and Louis’ relationship is when things get too obvious and they have to do damage control again. Nobody ever just talks about how  _good_  it is, how they care for each other, how they fit together, how it makes Zayn smile to see how happy they make each other.  
  
He’s expecting them to laugh, to tease him for his unexpected outburst of mushiness.They don’t. Louis merely smiles, contentment lighting up his tired face. “Thanks, Zayn,” he says softly. “It means a lot to us.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry agrees. With the hand that’s not holding Louis, he reaches across the narrow space between the bunks, searching for Zayn. Zayn wriggles his arm out from under his blanket and lets their hands meet in the middle, holding.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry says, meeting his eyes. He squeezes Zayn’s hand and Zayn smiles, lets go. “Goodnight,” he says, because he feels like making Louis stay awake one minute longer would just be cruel. “Love you boys.”  
  
“Love you too,” they echo together, and then they say it to each other, low and intimate and entirely different.  
  
When Zayn reaches to turn off the light, the last thing he sees is Harry with his finger under Louis’ chin, tilting his head up for a goodnight kiss.


End file.
